


give me a try

by thescrewtapedemos



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, referenced gratuitous amounts of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescrewtapedemos/pseuds/thescrewtapedemos
Summary: In which Mat reflects on a really excellent weekend.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starkwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkwords/gifts).



> a present for @zeroanythings on tumblr
> 
> enjoy xoxo

Mat’s room is fucking disgusting. 

It _smells_ like them. Like curry, and pizza, and the little bit of duck sauce Mat had spilled on the floor when Dillon had shouted from the bathroom about the hot water running out and startled him. Like pot, _so much_ pot, because they’d both brought supplies and Dillon might be kind of a lightweight but Mat very much isn’t. It smells like sex too; sweat and come and their bodies moving together. Mat can still smell it on himself, though he’d showered the day before. 

He wrinkles his nose and turns away from it to head into the bathroom. He just doesn’t feel like dealing with it yet. His head is still kind of fuzzy and he’s kind of really sore. 

There are bruises up the column of his throat, he sees in the mirror. He presses his fingers into them for a moment and hisses appreciatively at the ache. When he tugs his shirt off there are more down his chest, on the ridges of his skinny hips. Bitemarks he knows match Dillon’s teeth perfectly. The red rawness of beard-burn, because Dillon hadn’t been able to keep his mouth off Mat. 

It had been kind of amazing. Not something Mat’s all that used to, being wanted with that kind of ferocity. 

He turns away before his cock can do more than stir in his boxers. He’s somehow tired out, after three days of nothing but lazing in bed. Stoned and full of good food, touching and tasting and knowing each other’s bodies. He steps into the shower with a little bit of regret. 

He’s _very_ sore, he realizes when he tries to stretch up to grab his shampoo and his shoulders twinge angrily. He grins and stretches farther, enjoys the ache. It’s a good feeling, a fullness in his chest and body and his hand is sliding down his stomach to cup himself with so little input. 

It feels good, and Mat’s maybe still a little stoned so the sensation is diffuse and lazy instead of urgent. Massaging himself as he remembers. 

It had been kind of hesitant at first. Learning each other, the way they liked to touch and be touched, learning that Mat loves to be bitten and Dillon comes hardest when Mat’s bouncing on his dick slow and lazy and sated. 

Mat wraps his hand around himself tight at that thought. The fullness in him, Dillon’s hands on his thighs and hips urging him on. The ache of his muscles as he worked himself on Dillon’s cock, the play of pleasure and disbelief and dumb stoned joy on his face. His own hands on Dillon’s tattooed skin, bracing himself to get the perfect angle. 

He groans, remembering the hot wetness of Dillon’s cock pulsing inside him, come trickling from him as Dillon had pulled free. Rolling them over and taking Mat in his mouth. 

He comes thinking of Dillon’s lashes against his cheeks, mouth stretched around Mat’s cock, humming happily as Mat’s taste had filled his mouth. 

Come is washing down the drain when Mat opens his eyes and he sighs, palms away what’s still sticking to his skin and reaches for the shampoo again. 

He smells clean when he finally steps free. He doesn’t bother with clothes, pokes absently at a hickey on his thigh as he walks back into his room. His roommate had vanished at some point in the middle of the weekend so there’s no one to see him anyway. 

His room isn’t so bad, he decides on surveying it. The food containers take only a minute to gather and shove into a garbage bag and the smell of old food and sex starts to dissipate immediately when he opens the window. He’ll need to wash his blankets. Maybe even vaccuum - he’s pretty sure Dillon had fucked him on the floor at least once, hand milking his cock slow and easy until Mat had nearly cried, and he _knows_ he’d fucked Dillon against the wall and he doesn’t want to think about how he’s getting come out of the paint - but that’s for later. 

He strips the sheets and bundles them into the washer and grabs the spares down from his closet. Tucks them in haphazardly and flops down tiredly. 

It still smells a little like them. Or maybe he’s just imagining it. 

Dillon had left hours ago and Mat… might miss him a little bit. He’d left with an easy smile, a wave, going as casually as he’d come and it’s something Mat admires jealously. How easy he’d made it seem. 

He rummages his phone from the bedside table. There’s a few missed calls, more than a few text messages. Twitter mentions, emails, a few calendar reminders he clears with a roll of his eyes. None of them are from Dillon, but it’s reasonable to expect Dillon had passed out as soon as he’d gotten home. 

Maybe Mat should text him. Maybe they could make this… some kind of _thing_. Mat kind of wants to try.


End file.
